


The Other One - Night

by claro



Series: The Other One [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, I'm not sorry, Incest, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7497540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sooooo, following the lovely response I got from the main fic for this, I couldn't get it out of my head. And I couldn't really leave it there. So here it is, the first night after....well, after.<br/>And as always you can check me out over at <a href="www.clairewriteswords.wordpress.com">ClaireWritesWords</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other One - Night

It wasn't like it was before. Perhaps it never would be.

They had stood in the middle of Mycroft's office, clinging desperately to each other as murmured reassurances turned slowly in affirmations of love whispered gently against skin.

Later, in Mycroft's car, they sat side by side, unwilling to let go of each other.

'I don't know where you live,' Mycroft admitted, his head hung low.

Greg gave him a soft smile and muttered an address to the driver before pulling the partition back up and returning to his seat to rest against Mycroft, who dropped his head onto Greg's should as if he was too exhausted to hold it up himself. Which, if Mycroft had suffered like Greg had, might well be true.

They let go of each other only long enough to kick of their shoes and shrug out of their coats before laying down beside each other. Greg rolled onto his side and reached out to lace his fingers through Mycroft's, which were clutching and unclutching the sheet. At that touch Mycroft closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, as if trying to compose himself, before he opened his eyes again, shifting slightly so he could look back at Greg.

Once upon a time they would lain wrapped around each other in bed, naked skin warm against each other. But this was not that night. In truth Greg didn't know if it would ever be that night again. All he knew in that moment was that he needed to be close to Mycroft. He needed to be able to see him and touch him and smell him and to just be able to  _love_ him.

He gently lifted their entwined hands and kissed the tips of Mycroft's fingers. It was nothing more than a brush of lips against the pale skin, but Mycroft tightened his grip on Greg's hand, and when Greg looked at him, Mycroft was smiling. It wasn't a smile he had seen on Mycroft before. It was a sad, soft smile that conveyed every moment of hurt and torture and guilt, and all the uncertainty that lay ahead. Greg tried to smile back, but all he could do was look at Mycroft, their hands on the sheet between them and try not to grieve for how things were, or to dwell on the years they had spent apart, or the reason why.

He didn't know what would happen. He didn't know what, if anything, they could ever be or build. He didn't know if they would ever be intimate again, knowing what they knew.

He didn't know anything except that he couldn't spend another moment without the man beside him.

And for now,  __this was enough.


End file.
